


Settling in the Ashes

by BlackCat46



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: A few funnies here and there, Coma, Don't read if you're triggered by anything in the warnings, Effie POV, F/M, Hayffie, I can't actually write a summary for this, Long fic to be, Not too detailed, One of those fics written in a half asleep daze, Post-Mockingjay, Proceed with caution, Some Fluff, Starts in a dream, Trauma, bizarre, in progress, it's not as bad as it seems, more tags with more chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCat46/pseuds/BlackCat46
Summary: After her rescue, Effie finds herself in a bizarre land where everyone she knows is... Different. She lives for what feels like years in what she believes is paradise, but she knows she can't truly enjoy it, because she knows it's not her reality. Reality is nowhere near this gentle and easy.A story inside the mind of Effie Trinket during her first few years after the war that upturned Panem.
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. Part One - 1: Girl of Ruins

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all. 
> 
> First of all, thanks for clicking this. I hope you like it. Second, I'm not too sure how well this is going to go, because of the fact that it all came about when I was having issues with sleeping, and all I remember is someone saying the words "Ancient world," and my brain saying "KEEP THAT, CAT! YOU MIGHT NEED IT!" So be warned, weird is coming. And third, as I put in the tags, there'll be things mentioned in later chapters that reference things that can be triggering to some. I'll obviously warn for it in the opening notes of those chapters, but I want you to be clear from the very start.
> 
> That all said, I hope you enjoy it, and here's a quick disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, any of its characters, locations, or bases. Rights to all but any characters you don't recognise from the series itself go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne. I just enjoy playing about with her creations.

_Effie_

I open my eyes to a clear blue sky, not even a single, fluffy white cloud in it, and a bright, harsh, golden sun. I look around, and it dawns on me that I am lying on my back in the ruins of a dusty, white marble palace. Huh. Nice. Very beautiful sight. I slowly sit up, and my head throbs. Okay, must have bashed that. I rub the tender spot on the back of my head and look around properly. White marble columns stand proud, despite their state of obvious disrepair, and oh, it is _beautiful._ The floor is covered in golden-brown dusty stuff, and it's almost like desert dust. It's so beautiful here. I struggle to my feet and walk toward the archway, noticing lumps of the same desert dirt that has become solid all around me. Mm, what a beautiful place. I know I could draw this if I had my sketchpad and graphite. I walk and I hear whispers and applause from the nothingness around me. Why am I being applauded? How? There's nobody here! I turn, and I see a village of small, white, stone houses with straw-thatching for a roof on each, and people dressed in old-timey rags, all patched and beautiful in a rustic, old, peasant style. I love it. Such a treat after those awful cells. I approach the people, and I ask "Hello. May I be so awful as to ask where we are?"

"You're in the forgotten world," a woman tells me quietly. "The ancient world. Come, let me take you to the palace of our ruler. He's waiting for a bride, after all."

A who-what?! Me?! No! Ah-ah! I don't do getting married to strangers! I don't do getting married to people I know! I don't want to marry anyone _not Haymitch!_ I get put into a wheelbarrow and pushed along, hearing everyone cheering and celebrating around me. This is weird! What did I hit my head on?! I get wheeled to a gorgeous, glowing palace, not even _slightly_ ruined, and pushed to security. A big man asks "What's this? She looks more like a woman than straw! What sort of joke is this?"

"She came out of the ruins," the man pushing me says eagerly. "You know what they said about the girl with hair like a raven's! I brought her here for Sir!"

"The girl of ruins," the security guard says thoughtfully. "Give her to me, I'll give her to him."

I get transferred to the security guard, who runs inside the palace with me, and his running makes my head bounce and ache. "Excuse me?" I whimper. "Can you try _not_ running? I wouldn't ask, but I might be concussed, and my head hurts a lot when you run, running makes my head bounce."

He only bothers to slow down some, and he takes me up several flights of obsidian stairs, which is amazing, luxurious, and _confusing._ Where did they get enough obsidian to make all these stairs?! I look up to see two heavy mahogany doors with silver handles, and my heart skips a beat. Oh, that looks _amazing._ I wonder if I'll be allowed to sniff the doors. That's weird, but I really do love the smell of mahogany. The security guard opens the doors, and a booming voice I never thought I'd hear again asks "Why are you bursting in here?!"

"She's here!" the security guard declares.

"Who?" the voice asks again, and I strain to see across this enormous hall, but I can just about see Chaff, stood by a huge, winged armchair. "Is that who I think it is?"

"The girl of ruins," the security guard blathers. "Where is he?"

"Here," comes another voice I recognise, but this one makes my heart flip. _Haymitch._ "What have you got?"

"Not _what, who,"_ the guard says. "Look at her. She left the ruins, Sir."

Haymitch is the ruler of this place?! Who in their right fluffing mind would ever even consider making _my Haymitch_ a leader of a country?! What are his laws?! All types of alcohol are free? No drinks are to be given to him without an unhealthy dose of moonshine in it? I'm not concussed, no way. I'm fluffing delusional. I've lost my marbles. I'm locked in some asylum with my head between my knees, aren't I? My Haymitch is definitely _not_ a leader, he's a tactician, and he shouldn't be signing things in pen! My darling Haymitch makes his way across this cavernous hall, each footstep echoing off the walls, floor, and ceiling, and I finally get a good look at him. Suit, shirt, clean, no tie, typical, his hair's washed, and he looks _good,_ even his stubble looks nice! Mm. I always did love it when he scrubbed up, and that didn't change one bit. "She's cute," he says. "I was expecting something a lot worse than that. The legend never said that my future wife would be beautiful. I could have ended up with something out of a horror movie."

Aw, he thinks I'm beautiful. Yes, I am _definitely_ in an Effie fantasy land, Haymitch would never say I'm beautiful. He hates me, and he definitely wouldn't want to marry me, no matter how good he is at being cuddly. "Where do you want me to put her, Sir?" the guard holding me asks.

"Give her to me, and go get me a doctor for her," Haymitch says. "The tiny one's concussed."

Finally, someone notices! I get handed over to Haymitch, and I relax in his hold. He's warm, he's got all the good cuddle skills, and he's strong. If my fantasy land lets me marry him, I will be one happy little thing until I wake up. I look up at him and ask "You're intending to marry me, then?"

"Well, yeah, you're the girl from the ruins," he says.

"Explain?" I ask, blinking up at him.

"Well, loads of the village girls have tried it, but they were always revealed to be frauds who were just after getting married," Chaff says. "The thing with you is that you've fulfilled what the legend said without any idea of the rest of it. We put it out there that a girl with black hair was meant to leave the ruins in a daze, she's not from this world, and she'd end up marrying our leader. What they didn't know was that this girl would know about him from another life, she'd be his _one,_ if you will, and she'd never want anything more than him and his happiness. The others, your imposters, they all have."

"How on _earth_ have you managed to determine who's genuine and who isn't?" I ask.

"Well, they never questioned us," Haymitch says. "We knew you would."

Weird, weird, weird, and more weird. Did I mention that this is weird? "Okay. Who told you this _legend?_ I'm having serious words with them," I tell him. "This is mad. Am I high?"

"No," he tells me. "You're my future wife, though. Once we've had you looked at, we're going to take you to our room, and you get all dressed up."

Oh, no. He wants me examined. That always makes me think of probing. After the last few months of being locked in a cell and beaten, I really, really, really don't want to be probed too. Chaff starts laughing and says "She looks so scared, man."

"What's scaring you?" Haymitch asks quietly. Another thing that's completely out of character for him. He almost seems to care. "Princess, what's wrong?"

"Your doctor had _better_ stay away with a probe," I tell him firmly. "I'm not letting any probing happen. I like that particular hole to _stay_ an exit, if you catch my drift."

He bursts out laughing, and nearly drops me as he howls with laughter. I don't know what's so funny, this is my fantasy land, who knows what'll happen? Anything could, and that includes an alien being masquerading as a doctor with an icy cold probe to shove into an exit hole that I'd really prefer to _keep_ as an exit hole. "You're funny," he wheezes. "Pretty, funny, what else have you got?"

"A concussion, a throbbing headache, and a real fear of having things shoved into my bottom," I tell him seriously.

This time, he actually does drop me, and the last thing I hear before the world goes very dark is him wheezing out a curse word while he scrambles to get me.


	2. Part 1.2: Comprehension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Well, since the first chapter gained some love, I think we should continue this. Updates will continue to be on Tuesdays at 6pm now, aside from on Christmas Day, as I celebrate with family on that day, so the update for that week will be at 12 noon on the 24th. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its world. All rights go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne. I just like playing around with her characters.

I come around in a soft, plushy bed, and oh, how lovely! Lavender scented sheets, a comfy pillow, and a warm hand holding mine. "Hey, beautiful," Haymitch murmurs. "The doctor's been to see you. Apparently, bashing your head twice in two hours was enough to knock you out for two days, but you really needed the rest."  
  
I nod slightly, then scrunch up under the duvet. "Where are we?" I ask.

"Ancient World," he tells me.

"In relation to Panem," I sigh.

"Where?" he asks, his brows furrowing. "Is this to do with your concussion?"

"No," I tell him, a bit annoyed. "Is this a joke? You grew up there! In District Twelve, to be exact. You won the Hunger Games, and if you dare get mad at me for mentioning that, I'll get mad about this crazy joke you're pulling."

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks softly, checking my temperature with his free hand. "The doctor did say that you might experience some kind of memory loss and confusion."

"I'm not the one who's forgotten where they come from!" I exclaim. "I'm not the one who spent most of their life in a place they called home, and forgot about it the moment they became the leader of a place we've never even really heard of! Now, tell me, where are we in relation to Panem?"

He stares at me, then asks "Panem? You mean bread? The bakery's in the village, sweetheart. Do you want me to get you some bread?"

"Oh, for the love of fudge!" I screech. "Stop with this! Tell me where we are! How have we got here?! What even is this place?! And how are we getting back to Twelve?! Where are the kids?! Oh, hell fire, Haymitch, where are our kids?!"

"We haven't got _that_ far yet," he snorts. "You've been here two days, and for forty seven of those forty eight hours, you've been unconscious. We've definitely not had time to have children yet."

"Katniss and Peeta, Haymitch. Where are our victors?" I ask slowly, trying not to lose what little temper I have left. "The children. Did they make it out, too?"

"The Mellarks?" he asks. "They're fine, they're running their bakery. Do you want to go see them? I can take you to see them. Wait, what do you mean, _make it out?_ Make it out of where?"

"Never mind," I sigh. "Are they involved in this maddening joke, too?"

"What joke?" he asks. "Sweetheart, can you explain what's aggravating you? I don't want you to be so worked up. Do you need something to eat?"

Trust him to think that the only thing to fix me is food. "No, I need to know whether the children are okay, how we'll get back home, and where our home is in relation to where we are," I tell him quietly.

"We're at home," he says gently. "The Mellarks are in their bakery, living with their children, they're happy and healthy. You're confused, sweetheart, that's it. You'll be okay when your mind settles down again. It's all right."

I'm never getting him to crack, am I? This man loves to aggravate me, but why does he have to do it when I have a headache the size of this fluffing mansion? "When did you last have a drink?" I ask softly.

"I had some water about twenty minutes ago," he tells me, apparently quite taken aback by my question. "Why?"

"When did you last have an _alcoholic_ drink?" I ask, somewhat glad he knows what water is.

"Last state dinner," he says. "About three weeks ago."

"When did you sober up?" I ask.

"I wasn't drunk," he replies. "Beautiful thing, do you think I'm an alcoholic?"

"You are when we're not inside my head," I scoff.

"Tell me what you remember from before you ended up in the ruins," he says, his eyes widening.

"I remember being raised in the Capitol, in Panem. I remember being a model. I remember becoming District Twelve's escort, _your_ escort. Crying on you whenever we lost tributes in the Hunger Games. You were already an alcoholic when I met you, and you didn't stop until the Seventy Fifth Games were announced. You trained then, there was a chance you'd be going back into the arena. You didn't, thankfully, but you _could_ have, and that was terrifying to me. We nearly lost both Katniss and Peeta, you left me on our sofa to go to Thirteen, and I ended up being tortured with Peeta and Johanna for information. I remember you coming for me, then I woke up in the ruins," I tell him.

"You said seventy fifth," he murmurs. "How many of these games were there? What are the tributes we lost?"

"Seventy-five in total. You and some rebels against the Capitol ended them there. The tributes are children, one boy and one girl from each of the twelve participating Districts, in penance for an uprising that happened seventy-five years before rebels stopped them. Over the years since you won the Games, your home District lost forty six tributes under your mentorship, which led you to alcoholism. Katniss and Peeta won twenty-four years after you, after a lot of dealing with the Head Gamemaker on our parts," I say sadly.

He thinks for a minute, then asks "What else do you remember?"

"You won the Second Quarter Quell," I tell him quietly. "You hate me mentioning that to you, because it was particularly devastating. You were nearly gutted. You came home to your mother, brother, and the love of your life rotting in your home, each with a white rose on their chest, symbolic of our former President, Coriolanus Snow. Ever since your Games, you slept with a knife, and woke up with nightmares of your family, and the three other tributes from your arena."

"You said only two went in from each place," he says, his face crinkling with confusion.

"Yes, but every twenty five years, a special, sickening twist would be put on, which is why they were called Quarter Quells. They were every quarter of a century. You were sixteen at the time, and your year, there were forty eight tributes, double what there usually would be," I whisper, feeling sick at the memory. Or maybe that's my concussion. "The first one, they had everyone in each District vote on which two children would go into the arena, and the third was compromised of the existing pool of victors, which is why I was scared for you and the children. You three became my family, in a way, even though only Peeta has ever really actually liked me. You never have, unless it was in a sexy way or in a fighting way. I won't even _start_ on Katniss! She's hated me right from the start. But I love you all anyway."

"You're so cute," he murmurs. "How could anyone hate you? You're sweet and gentle."

"The you I know would never tell me that," I scoff, then squeeze his hand. "I do love you, you know. Both this you, and the you I know. I know you're happier in this world... Oh. We're dead, aren't we? All of us. We're dead. That's why you're happy. That's why Chaff's here."

"Huh?" he asks. "How do you mean?"

"Chaff died in that last arena," I tell him sadly. "That means that you and I, and Peeta, and Katniss, we all died at some point during the war."

He hugs me close and says "No, beautiful, don't think like that. There's no way we're all dead in the world you know. If you're really in a fantasy land like you think you are, then this is your imagination. If it is, then you're alive, and so are the people you know. Don't scare yourself, beautiful girl. Tell you what. You live with me here, you live your fantasy life while your body's recovering from the torture you remember, and when you're ready to wake up in that life, you can go back and live your real life out."

I kiss his cheek and cling to him. "Okay," I murmur. "Okay. We'll do that. I'm sorry. I know it's a bit mad to have me dropped on you like this. I'll happily spend my life with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. I hope this was okay. Any thoughts, ideas, constructive criticism, or prompts are always greatly appreciated. 
> 
> I also have one other ongoing story titled Mockingjay Revisited over on fanfiction net, which I've recently picked up again from 2014, and that's updated on Thursdays. Any prompts for the one shots collection over there are updated on Saturdays, if and when prompts are submitted. I accept prompts pretty much anywhere you find me, be it here, fanfiction net, or on Twitter. 
> 
> Love, light, and happiness to you all. Until next week. Cat xxx


	3. Part 1.3: Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. Hope you've had a good week, and that you enjoy this chapter. It's up much later today, as I was out at the usual update time, and I didn't have much wifi. I was going to post earlier, but I'm honestly a woman with a goldfish's memory. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its world. All rights go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne, I just like playing around with her characters.

Beginning a new life inside your own head is a very difficult thing to do. How on earth am I supposed to ever relax with the knowledge that I am now in a committed relationship with a man I love but I've reimagined to fit my fantasies, and he's not real? The Haymitch outside my mind, the man I know to be mine for real, he's nothing like this. He's far from perfect, but that's what made me love him. My imagined Haymitch is soft, gentle, warm, unharmed, trauma-free, and by all accounts, _perfect_. I love this imaginary Haymitch, but I don't want perfection. I want him flawed, like he truly is. If I ever wake up from this dream, I vow to _never, ever, ever_ be mean to him again. He's human, and I miss him. I do my best to be happy, but I'm not. I miss the _real_ Haymitch, I miss my kids. I want to be there. "You've disappeared again," my imaginary Haymitch says, stroking my hair.

I am to marry him in the morning. I'm not scared. This is my own headspace, I will be fine. If I fluff it up, I can wake up and hope for the chance in my real life to make it right there. It's so surreal, being this way. I don't know how to describe my feelings like this. "I'm just thinking, sweet, don't worry," I murmur. "Can we go to the bakery? I wouldn't turn down one of those delicious shortcrust pastry cookies Peeta makes."

Katniss and Peeta, at least in this life, were rather shocked to have Haymitch and I talk to them, because he is the mysterious ruler they only ever knew as the Headman, and I was only ever the unnamed future bride of their elusive Headman, the Girl of Ruins. Sounds about right for me, doesn't it? A mad woman locked inside her own head, dropped in the ruined recesses of her mind, and taken to an idealistic version of the man she's loved ever since she understood love to become his wife. Yes, very much the Girl of Ruins, a mad woman, a lonely woman with no real shot at a life with her beloved. Definitely. I feel my coat being wrapped around me, and my love says "On your feet, little thing, we'll go get your shortcrust cookies."

I go with him, and he keeps me to his side, lovingly petting me every so often. I have actually come to the realisation that Katniss and Peeta, in this life, are both soft, unworn by hardship, much like this version of Haymitch, and they both seem to like me. I am aware of the fact that this is my own doing, my own creation, and it saddens me to be struck with how lonely I really am in waking life. In my reality, even Peeta is distant, despite how much I love that boy as a son. He doesn't think of me as his mother, and I can't say as I blame him; I have failed him more than once. In this life, though, they're sweet, funny, and they like me. In this life, they have a beautiful little girl with black curls and blue eyes, and a gorgeous baby boy with blonde hair and grey eyes. They're the images of their parents, both of them, and I feel some sort of longing to have some of my own. I never will, of course, at least not in waking life, but here, I might. My husband-to-be in this life is undamaged and whole, and he wants a family. He wants a wife, four children, and a pet or two. He's as far from the real Haymitch as you can get, but at least here, I will get to see the life I'll never really have. I'll get to see my wedding to him, our marriage, our babies, and maybe, if I'm very, very lucky, our grandbabies. We get to the bakery, and I see Peeta's smile as we walk in. "Hey!" he calls, then turns. "Katniss! They're here!"

Katniss, eager to see us, comes barrelling out of the living area, and grins. "Hey! How are you both? Nervous for the big day?" she asks.

That's another thing. Here, Katniss is a chatty lady. She wants to talk to us. "Not really," my love chuckles. "Marrying someone this cute doesn't exactly bring nerves to the surface."

"No, I'm actually excited," I tell her. "I can't wait."

My love seems pleased with that, and he gives me a very big squeeze, something I genuinely love. "So, what brings you here?" Peeta asks.

"Your shortcrust cookies that Princess is so fond of," my darling says, almost adoringly. "She hasn't had the best day mentally today, and she's barely eaten at all, they're the first thing she's wanted at all, aside from her daily intake of coffee."

Peeta provides. He gives us a whole load of freshly baked shortcrust cookies, and he asks "Is there anything else you want?"

We end up buying quite a fair bit from them, purely because their baked goodies are far too delicious to resist. I do love good quality baking. It makes me happy to be with them all like this, in a way I never thought we'd all be. It feels so good to be around them, to be loved, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to be okay with not being loved when I'm awake and with their real life counterparts again. Their real life counterparts tolerate me, they don't love me, and that hurts quite a bit. I feel lips on my forehead, and my darling whispers "Come back to me, gorgeous girl."

This is what life should be about. A family who loves you. I could learn to live being loved this way. It's nice. "I'm with you," I murmur. "I'm always with you."

He kisses me, and we get our baked goodies into our car, bidding the kind Mellarks and their adorable babies a warm goodnight with the hopes of seeing them tomorrow for our wedding day. I get into the car with my soon-to-be husband, and he rubs my knee gently, watching me. "Are you feeling all right, beautiful?" he asks lovingly. "You've been all quiet today, and I've missed hearing you talk."

"I'm fine," I whisper. "Just thinking of how handsome you look in suits of any kind."

He smiles warmly at me and says "You're so perfect. I don't know how _anyone_ could dislike you even slightly. You're the best thing ever made."

I kiss him gently, then whisper "We should go home, darling. I have a lot of love for you that I think you need me to give to you."

He grins and sets off. The drive home is quiet, but full of flirtatious looks that make me very flustery and bothered. I want him, and I haven't wanted him this way since two hours before he left me alone for the Peacemakers to take me away. We get back in, put most of our baked goods away, and keep a few cookies in our room. I kiss him again once I know the cookies are safely out of our way, and he pushes me to the bed. I get a big kiss that I eagerly respond to, and as I tug his shirt up, he murmurs "Wait. I need to check for condoms."

"You know I'm clean, I know you're clean," I whisper. "We haven't used condoms in ages."

"I know," he says. "But I don't want to risk getting you pregnant yet."

Oh, yes. That. I'd forgotten I'm capable of reproduction inside my head. Oops. "Okay," I whisper. "Better had, then."

He chuckles and gets up to grab a condom. I don't really mind, I know it's for the best. He comes back to bed with one, and I kiss him again. He wraps himself around me, enveloping me in his warm, strong grip. His hands are smoother in this world, less roughened and scarred by manual work, arena things, and punching many mirrors, but they're no less strong. He's still warm, and he's still a wonderful lover, as he proves more with each tender caress, each soft kiss, and every powerful thrust into my body. I love this so, so much, he's so kind and caring. I give as much as my body can give, and I use all of my best tricks on him, which has him cursing at the top of his lungs while he finishes into the condom. His brutal kiss once he's ridden out his own climax triggers my own release, and he breaks the kiss just to hear me scream for him. It's so good to feel this way again after so long not having any good feelings in my body at all. He's amazing, and I don't deserve such a wonderful man. I can't believe he's mine. He kisses me and whispers "That was brilliant, beautiful."

"Yes, it was," I whisper, my brain feeling all mushy. I wish I had a true concept of time, though. I don't even know how long he and I really have been together, or how long our wedding really will take to come. Who knows? Not me. Not bothered. Snuggling to be done, and I want to snuggle. "My handsome thing."

He grins and lets me cling to him. I will be very happy to be his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have that! Hope you enjoyed that one. Constructive criticism, opinions, and questions are all welcome here. Remember, I am open to prompts for one shots, so if you have anything you'd like to see this Saturday, let me know.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy your week. Love, light, and happiness to you all. Cat xxx


	4. Part 1.4: Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Well, here comes another chapter for you, and this one is full of cuteness. I hope you've had a good week, and that this is satisfactory for you. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its world. All rights go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne. I just like playing around with her characters.

I am in my wedding gown, a midnight-black velvet gown that's tight at the top, and flowing at the bottom, a strapless affair that solely relies on my breasts to hold it up, and that's comical in itself, because if I dance to anything bouncy, these things will end up hitting my face and my dress will end up around my ankles. This is going to be a very fun, very sexy adventure for me. Haymitch won't love it, but the view will entertain him. I breathe deeply and look myself over. Cinna, who has survived in this fantasy world, has done a wonderful job with my hair and makeup, and Portia has dressed me up to compliment the job Cinna has done with my hair and makeup. I am almost close to average! I could be considered almost pretty! They've worked miracles, I'm not a rotting potato any more, I almost look like an averagely pretty human! Oh, this is excellent! "You look stunning," Portia tells me, cupping my cheek. "Now you go out there, get your little self married, and remember that you're gorgeous, you deserve to finally be happy, and he's just as lucky to have you as you are to have him."

"Thank you," I murmur, genuinely meaning it. "You don't know how grateful I am for that. I love being freely allowed to admit that I love him."

She smiles at me, the smile full of warmth and love, and says "You deserve to be happy."

Finnick, again, a man I never thought I'd see again, pokes his head in and asks "Is the bride ready?"

"She is, and she's _perfect_ ," Portia says happily. "Come on, gorgeous, let's get you married to the man of your dreams."

At least in this reality, I get to be married to him just once before he leaves me for good. I walk with Portia and Finnick, and they allow me into the hall where I'll finally get married and become Mrs Abernathy. Wow. I hear the whole hall, which was _just_ buzzing with enthusiasm, fall completely silent, and my beloved turns around to see me. His eyes widen and a grin splits his face, making me smile back. I love seeing him so happy. I approach him slowly, each step feeling both like struggling through water and running in the air. I can't believe that it's happening... I can't believe it. I get to him, and I hear his registrar ask "Shall we begin?" It strikes me that the woman officiating our wedding here is Johanna Mason, and it takes all I have not to burst out laughing. My brain does the weirdest things in dreams. I would _never_ place her as a registrar in waking life! "First of all, does anyone here have any objection to the marriage of Haymitch Abernathy and Euphemia Trinket? Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Silence falls for a minute, then I hear Portia snap "Look, everyone wants them married, so get on with it! Don't keep us in suspense!"

I giggle, and Haymitch grins at me. Johanna shrugs it off and looks to Haymitch. "Haymitch, will you take Euphemia Trinket to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer and for even richer than that, in sickness and in health, for as long as you may live?" she asks.

Wait. Wasn't that meant to be _for poorer?_ Does she think we're going to be rich forever? I feel a bout of confused Effie coming on. "I will," Haymitch says, giving my hands a squeeze.

"And do you promise to love her and cherish her, for better and for worse, until death do you part?" she asks.

"I do," Haymitch replies.

"And Effie, will you take Haymitch Abernathy to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer and even richer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you may live?" she asks, watching me.

"I will," I confirm, looking up at Haymitch just for something pretty to look at.

"Do you promise to love him and cherish him, for better and for worse, until death do you part?" she asks.

"I do," I tell her.

"All right, can we have the rings and your vows?" she asks, gesturing.

Haymitch picks up the smaller wedding band and looks at me, clearly gearing himself up to confess his love for me. Only in my dreams will he do this, in reality, he'll tell me what an absolute idiot I am, how stupid I am, what a mess I am, but that he tolerates me anyway, and he's happy to marry me if it shuts me up about the women who throw themselves at him. He grins a bit and says "I never thought you'd come. I never expected the legend to be real, nor did I expect a funny, kind, gentle, lovable, clever, beautiful woman to be my wife. You're all these things and so much more. You're a brilliant and elegant little thing, and I am honoured to be able to say that you're mine. All I can ever aspire to do is be even half of what you deserve in a husband. I will do anything to uphold the standards you expect, and to give you all the love in the world. You are the best thing to ever have happened to me, sweetheart, and I love you. This should help kick the rest of our lives off the right way. I promise you my love, loyalty, and eternal trust," and he slides the wedding band onto my finger.

I pick up the larger of the two and say "I didn't ever think I'd get to be this lucky. I never thought you'd fall in love with me. You're an amazing, wonderful, hilarious, tender, strong, gorgeous, intelligent man, you have the world at your feet, and you picked me. You're a fantastic man, and I am proud to say that you're mine. I hope to become the wife you deserve, the wife you want, and I'll do anything for you, to make you happy, to make you proud, and to give you the life you need. I will love you forever, long after my last breath, and hopefully, you'll know it forever. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me too, and I love you more than life itself. With this, I promise you my eternal loyalty, trust, and love," then I slip his wedding band onto his finger.

He wastes no time in grabbing and kissing me, holding me to him as I kiss him back. I guess that's us pronounced husband and wife, then! Mm, he's such a good kisser... He'll have to get ready, I love him a lot, I need to work some of these feelings out of me _soon_. I kiss him until he needs air and breaks away, and we follow Johanna to a private room, where we sign our wedding documents. I love the fact that I can do this. I am married to the love of my life, at least until I wake up. He strokes my hair and asks "Are you feeling all right, beautiful?"

"I feel fantastic," I tell him, nestling up to him. "We're officially married."

He gives me a big hug and says "Yeah, we are. It's great, isn't it? About time, too."

I giggle, and once we have our papers signed, we head into the reception hall. I get both him and me a drink, and he keeps his arm around my waist. Being here, being with him, I feel loved like I've never felt loved before. He wants me here. Unlike in my own reality, he wants me to be with him, he wants me in his space, and I like being wanted. It beats being told how terrible I am by miles. I kiss his cheek gently, gratitude and love flowing through me. He wants me, and that's something I'll never take for granted. We go to the dance floor as music begins, and my love gently touches my waist, holding my hand. I take his waist and his hand, and we dance to the beat on the speakers. I love that he chose the song we first danced to at a Games party for our first dance as a married couple, even though he doesn't know about the Games in this fantasy land. I snuggle up to him as we dance, and press kisses to his neck and shoulders, enjoying being in his hold. People join us on the dance floor, and I go to get more drinks, because it is hot, and I don't do well in either extreme of temperature. As I reach for my drinks, I feel a sharp stabbing pain on my inner left elbow, but there's nothing there. I grab my arm and I feel very dizzy and sore. I feel myself fall, and I hear Haymitch somewhere near me asking "Effie? Are you okay? Wake up, beautiful. Are you waking up?"

I come around, still in my wedding dress, and my love is holding me close, tears all over his face. I wipe his tears off gently and ask "Are you okay? Were you talking to me as I fainted?"

"No," he says. "A couple of guests came to get me, you were already unconscious when I got to you."

Must have been reality catching me. Ah, well. I will live out my life here, and see what comes of it. I hope it's good. It can't be worse than what reality has given to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that. I always love writing Hayffie weddings. I wonder if that ever happened without Katniss knowing. Hmm. Anyway, I think I'd better put up a little reminder that next week's update will be at 12 noon GMT on the 24th, because I will be spending the evening of the 24th, as well as all day on the 25th, with family, and I'd like to be there in the moment without worrying about an upload, so you get a chapter six hours early! Woo!
> 
> And as always, if you liked it, have theories about where this is going, have any prompts (I publish one-shots on Saturdays), or have any constructive criticism, feel free to drop me a comment to let me know! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you all have an amazing week. Love, light, and happiness to you all. Cat xxx


	5. Part 1.5: Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Hope you've all had a good week. And I hope that any celebrations you've had/are having have been amazing and the ones yet to come go well for you, and that you enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its world. All rights go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne. I just like playing around with her characters.

I don't even know how a year's gone by, honestly. It's unbelievable. One minute, I was at my own wedding, then I left that reception with my new husband, and here I am, a year of whirlwind later. He's started discussing babies with me now, and I know how much he wants them. I just don't know if I'll be able to cope with one day waking up in my real life and not having my babies with me. He's got a catalogue in hand, and he passes it to me, keeping a finger near a beautiful stroller. "What do you think, sweetheart?" he asks.

"I think you're trying to tell me something," I scoff. "It's either you want me to have our baby, or you're pregnant, and since you're probably biologically incapable of the latter, I'm guessing it's the former."

He laughs and asks "Don't you want a baby, sweetheart?"

"I do, but I don't know if I can," I tell him. "I don't think my body works like that. I'm probably not the right choice for tiny beings. I'm sorry."

He doesn't even look put out, he just hugs me. "I'm sorry for bringing it up," he murmurs, kissing my head. "I didn't know you can't... I'm sorry, sweetheart. I won't mention it again."

"It's okay," I whisper, giving him a squeeze. "I might be able to, but still, I should have told you."

He kisses my head again, giving me a big squeeze, then asks "What do you want to do tonight, gorgeous? Our anniversary, you get spoiled, and I get to enjoy spoiling you. What do we do?"

"How about we get some movies, a takeout, and some warm things to make a nest out of, and we spend the whole night cuddling, eating, and enjoying each other?" I offer.

"Best date ever," he chuckles. It's our favourite pastime from the Games in my real world, where on nights we both felt miserable and had nothing to do, we'd get a whole load of junk food and blankets to make a nest and watch movies. I love the date nights that involve that, we don't usually feel pressured to have sex, we just sit, cuddle, and enjoy the night as it is, a soothing, quiet time that'll never be painful for either of us. He orders our takeout, and I gather up a basket full of snacks and soda from the kitchen, and we grab a whole lot of blankets and duvets to keep us warm. We build a nest of warm stuff around us, and we wrap ourselves up as soon as we've got our food here and dished up. We have a horror movie on, and each other. How much better does it get? He gives me a kiss and says "You're really cute, sweetheart, and you're not even aware of it."

"So are you," I whisper. "I love you."

He grins and gives me a gentle kiss, then rubs my tummy gently. "Love you too, tiny one," he murmurs, then tugs me to him so that we can watch the movie and eat together, my head resting on his shoulder while his head rests on mine. It's so nice to be warm and in his hold like this. I wish I could live in this moment forever. It'd be so good just to live like this. He keeps me warm throughout the movie, and as soon as I've eaten my fill, I start to drift off to sleep against him. "Do you want to go to bed, little thing?"

"No," I mumble. "Fine snuggling here, thanks you."

He chuckles quietly and says "All right, beautiful girl. Snuggling right here."

I let myself drift, only to be awoken by his snores. I shift slightly, feeling his grip tighten a little, and I watch his face while he sleeps. He looks so much younger when he's asleep, less stressed, less _exhausted_ , happier. Like he's found bliss at last in a way he won't find in waking life. I'm happy here. Even if it's just for a little while, I am very happy here. I'm lucky, really. After all I went through before finding this world, I feel content here, like I found my own paradise inside the hellscape that was my reality. Maybe I've died out there. Maybe this is me forever now. I don't know if I want it to be. I could cope if it was, but I'd forever wonder what my life with Haymitch in my physical world would have been like. Definitely not this peaceful, no, but real in a way I don't know if this one could ever be. I love the innocent, happy, mentally sound Haymitch, this is definitely what he could have been like if the Games didn't really exist, but the Haymitch I know is _mine_. He's fully understanding of the trauma I went through, and the kids know and like me for different reasons out there than the ones that this version of them like me. I fall back asleep, and even though everything is now dark, I can faintly hear Katniss asking "Has she opened her eyes yet?"

"No, but she was twitching earlier," I hear Haymitch say hopefully. "She even smiled. It was really sweet. Whatever she's dreaming about, she's happy."

I feel a weight on my tummy and open my eyes to see Haymitch next to me in our blanket mound, and he's smiling. "Hey," I murmur.

"Hey, beautiful," he whispers, kissing my nose. "Nice to see your pretty eyes again. Were you enjoying your dream?"

"I suppose," I whisper, cuddling closer to him.

I notice the daylight and realise that I slept through the night with that dream. "Want some chocolate waffles for breakfast?" he asks. "Special treat for you."

"You know me, I'll never turn down waffles," I giggle. "But first, kisses."

He kisses me deeply, and I know that I'm lucky with him. He loves me, and I love him. He's so kind to me, and he tries so hard for me. I don't deserve such an amazing man, in either of my existences. At least I know I'm not dead now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. If you have any questions, ideas, theories, prompts you'd like to see, or constructive criticism, feel free to leave them in a comment below or in a review on the one-shots series on my ff net profile.
> 
> Happy holidays to all, and even if you're not celebrating anything, I hope you enjoy the way you choose to spend this time. Sending love, light, and happiness to you all. Cat xxx


	6. Part 1.6: Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! It's a bit late for a "Happy New Year", right? So I'll say it anyway! Happy New Year and I hope 2020 has treated you well so far. I've got some explaining to do to those of you who don't follow me on Twitter, but for once, these circumstances were _well _out of my control. I'll explain at the end of the chapter, I'm sure you'd rather read the actual Hayffie stuff than me waffling 😂 .__
> 
> _  
> _Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its world. All rights go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne. I just like playing around with her characters._  
> _

My day is relatively busy today. Stuff to do, people to see, bananas to eat, Haymitch to squeeze, naps to take, coffee to drink, normal stuff. "What's on your agenda, Princess?" my darling asks, and the first opportunity to squeeze my Haymitch has presented itself. I hug him and give him his first squeeze since his shower. "Aww. Is this part of it?"

"Yes," I tell him happily. "Squeezing you is always part of my agenda. This is the first of many today. There's also stuff for me to do, like dusting the windows and washing the television, people to see, naps to take, coffee to drink, and did I just say dusting the windows?"

"Yeah," he says, laughing at me. "Maybe try dusting the television instead, beautiful, I don't want you to get electrocuted, and the television won't appreciate a bath."

I smile and whisper "The television won't, but I will. You know what I meant. I need to get on the dusting and window cleaning, I've left it for far too long, and I'm getting sneezes from it."

He laughs at me and kisses my head. "You're so cute," he murmurs. "I love your cuteness."

"What are you doing today?" I ask.

"You, when you're done doing your day to day stuff. While I wait for you to be done, I've got a couple of rules to amend, a few people to see, and some stuff to eat. You'll probably be done by then, so I'll come back to finish the day with you," he says, rubbing my bottom gently. "Beautiful girl."

"Gorgeous man," I murmur. "I love you, darling. I'll try to be quick with today. Do we have cookies?"

"They're in the cookie jars," he tells me. "I commissioned an order from Peeta, a whole week's supply of shortcrust pastry cookies in each jar, just for you."

"Marry me again," I say, gazing up at this heavenly being. He _does_ love me. 

He laughs and says "I'll organise a renewal of our vows, beautiful girl."

The world darkens, and when it comes back, I'm lay in my bed, my husband next to me, holding something _tiny_. I peep over his arm and see the most beautiful baby in the entire universe watching him. "Hi," I murmur. "Ooh, pretty."

"He's just woken up," my love chuckles. "Want to hold him?"

"Yes, please," I say, squirming up. I don't dare look down yet, I don't need to see the aftermath of my pregnancy yet. It's sad, I don't remember ever having a baby. I don't remember my pregnancy. This is just a dream, and when I wake, it'll hurt me because this baby boy isn't even real. I take the baby and smile. He looks like a small, wrinkled, chubby version of his father, but with my blue eyes and button nose. Aww. "Hello, handsome baby boy."

Our baby blinks at me, he's definitely only a few hours old at most. I look at my husband, who says "You blacked out giving birth, beautiful. He needs a name."

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"Only about two hours," he says. "He was born about ten minutes after you fainted. Have you got a name for him?"

"Zachariah," I whisper. "One hundred percent. You?"

"I was thinking we'd name him whatever you came out with, and Rowan for a middle name," he says softly. "What do you think?"

"I think yes. Do we have bananas?" I ask. "I'm craving a banana."

He smiles and produces one from the bedside table. "You've had banana cravings since before we knew you were pregnant, little one," he chuckles, because my shock has apparently decided to show on my face. "Here's your banana."

I peel it with one hand, and munch through it happily. Haymitch doesn't really like bananas, so I don't offer, knowing he won't eat it. When I'm done, I press a soft kiss to Haymitch's cheek, then one on our son's forehead, and I sigh happily. "That was delicious," I murmur, then my vision fades out. I look to my husband and whisper "I feel ill."

He takes the baby and runs for a doctor, but my world goes black, and I hear faint yelling, yelling that echoes, and one set of shouts grows stronger. There are four more, five more, six more voices yelling now... I open my eyes to blinding light, nothing as soft as what had been in my bedroom moments ago, and I cover my eyes with my hands, hearing Haymitch asking, in a much harsher way, "Princess, are you all right?"

No! "Trinket!" I hear Johanna's voice yell, the sounds distorting. I am not a Trinket, I'm Haymitch's wife! "Come on, Trinket, come back!"

A strange voice yells "We're losing her! Come on!"

 _"Effie!"_ Haymitch yells, but his voice is distorted. "Princess!"

"You can't!" a stranger yells.

"She's flatlined!" another stranger shouts.

"No, Effie!" Haymitch bellows.

"Move back, sir!" a voice yells, and the world sort of _bounces_ , moving oddly, and I start to float. Why am I not going back?! Where's Haymitch?! I want to go back to my husband! I want my baby! "Come on, Miss Trinket! Come back to us!"

No... I'm floating... Floating... The shouts are gone. All of them. Just quiet. Soft. I'm floating. Peace at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, I hope you enjoyed that! I'm sorry for the way it ended. Sort of. Next up is part two, and it's getting weirder from here.
> 
> Second, I'd like to explain, for those of you who read this but don't follow my Twitter. On 28/12/19, my modem (as I put it to my friend Aaron "a little box of internet that you plug into the wall and it gives you internet access") lost the ability to use its power switch. I went over a week without wifi, and being the idiot I am, I forgot to put future chapters (read: this one!) in the story drafts for upload, because I clearly don't think ahead to the worst case scenario. I now have a new modem, and I also have more stuff in the works. I am sorry I missed last week's upload, I really didn't want to, but naturally, the universe has other plans for me.
> 
> Third, I accept prompts for one-shots that you'd like to read, so let me know if you have any, I'm always open. You can get them to me here in a comment, on my Twitter (BlackCatS46), or on my fanfiction net page under the same username as here.
> 
> And finally, I hope you liked this. If you have anything you'd like to say, be it thoughts on the chapter, ideas about what comes next, constructive criticism, or something else entirely, let me know! I love interacting with you all. 
> 
> Until next week, sending love, good vibes, light, and happiness to you. Cat xxx


	7. Part 2.1: Returning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all, and welcome back, and welcome to Part Two. This is going to be a significantly longer part than Part One, seeing as this is outside of the dream now. It'll be about three parts in all, so I hope you're in for the long haul.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its world. All rights go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne. I just like playing around with her characters.

"She's back," I hear Haymitch saying, and my heart leaps. Am I back? Can I see my son? I open my eyes, but I have to shut them. "She'll be okay, but we're only allowed here because she trusts us. I have to go, she's waking up."

"Effie?" Peeta asks, and I know by his tone which Peeta it is, he has nearly no confidence left in him. "Can you hear us?"  
  
I'm back in my own life. My real life. That means that everything I remembered in the ancient world was real. It was all real... I really went through all that. "Dim the lights?" I ask softly, and when I open my eyes again, it's nice and dark. Good. My eyes are burning. "Hi."  
  
"Hey, beautiful," Haymitch murmurs, sitting beside me, and I see the real him. "You scared us all."  
  
"We didn't think you'd ever wake up," Peeta whispers.  
  
"We had another hour before we'd be forced to pull the plug," Katniss tells me.  
  
I look to Haymitch and ask "Where are we?"  
  
"Mansion's hospital," he mutters gruffly, petting me. "It was only through us fighting that you made it a month in this bed. Your coma was deep."  
  
"So were the injuries," the doctor says. "Your body needed that coma, Miss Trinket, but by last week, your body was healed. We couldn't have kept you on life support for very much longer, Miss Everdeen and Mr Mellark were going home, and with them, Mr Abernathy, who is the main reason you were kept on here so long."  
  
"Thank you," I mutter. "So I can move?"  
  
"Yeah," Haymitch says.

I ask "Unwire me?"  
  
The doctor detangles me, then I scramble right onto Haymitch's lap and hug him tightly. "Hi," he murmurs, kissing my head gently as his arms wrap around me. "I've missed you."  
  
"I missed this you, too," I murmur. "You're _my_ Haymitch."  
  
"All yours," he says. "What were you dreaming about?"  
  
"You," I tell him. "All three of you."  
  
He squishes me gently, and asks "Did you enjoy it?"  
  
"In that dream, Katniss and Peeta were married and had two beautiful babies," I whisper. "I married you, and after a year of our marriage, we had a baby boy. It was nice, but weirdly off. There'd never been any Hunger Games, you were the leader of the Ancient World, and I was your destined bride. It was lovely, but very unrealistic. And if I start craving bananas, you might be in danger of being a daddy. Just warning you now."  
  
"Okay," he chuckles, kissing my head. "You said we got married."  
  
"Yes. It was just a dream, you don't have to marry me if you don't want to," I murmur, snuggling him. I'd understand why he wouldn't want to marry me, I'm a mess. I can't be normal here, I'm too fluffed up. I'm insane now, and I can still hear the sounds of the whips, the smell of my skin as the electric stickers scorched it, the stink of tobacco as the guards put cigarettes out on me, the flash right before they hit me with weapons, the sound of the gunshot that had fired a bullet into my kneecap, the crunching of bones, the feeling of each breath hurting after a thorough beating... "I love you."  
  
He's giving me squeezes, and the doctor puts an oxygen mask on me to help me breathe properly, and Katniss asks "Do I get her a drink?"  
  
"Coffee," I mumble, and Haymitch pets me. "I'd like coffee."

"Coffee," Haymitch says. The nurse makes a noise of protest, but he says "Trust me, I know this woman. Coffee works."

She leaves, returning with a tray of coffees for us all. I take my own, sipping it happily, curled up to my Haymitch. He's so solid and squishy. I feel safe here. Loved, almost. He kisses my head, and I whisper "Love me?"  
  
"Forever," he promises softly. "My gorgeous girl."  
  
I burrow closer and close my eyes, sipping my coffee and enjoying my love's attentions. He treats me like a good squishy, even though I worried him. Such a nice, warm man. I want to be near him forever. He treats me warmly, like I'm a good Princess... Am I? I thought so in my dreams, but here, maybe not. Maybe here, I'm a horrid person again. I bump my nose against his jaw and ask "Home?"  
  
"We'll go home when you've had a few check ups," he tells me kindly. "Then all four of us go home, and you get all the hugs your cuteness missed out on."  
  
Yes! Home sweet home! Haymitch and the kids, all the cuddles ever made! I could squeal! I love them all, and now I get to show them! Maybe I could learn to make food, that make them love me back. I know Katniss loves people who are genuinely kind to her and feed her, she's like a puppy in that way. Feed it, love it, and get snuggled. Haymitch will be happy that he won't have to cook for me, and Peeta will be pleased that it won't all be left to him. I love my family. I will learn to cook. And knit, I could make them _sweaters_... Maybe I could even get a job when people have accepted me so that Haymitch isn't forced to provide for me. He doesn't have to. "What are you thinking of?" Haymitch asks.  
  
I have the sudden realisation that my loved ones might not want another loopy thing in their lives. "When you say we're all going home," I whisper. "Do you mean that all four of us are going to Twelve, or _you three_ are going?"

"We're not leaving you," Peeta says firmly. "That was never an option."

"You're family," Katniss mutters awkwardly. "You're stuck with us."  
  
"How do you expect to have a life with us if you're not with us?" Haymitch asks, giving me a squeeze. "Of course you're coming with us, beautiful."  
  
I smile and curl up to him for big cuddles. I'm going to go with them and be as small and annoying as possible! I hope I can be as happy here as I was with my dream-Haymitch and our son...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I hope you liked that. If you have any questions, theories, or constructive criticism, I'm always open to it. I also would like to thank everyone who has commented, left kudos, and bookmarked this so far, I always get so excited when I see interaction.
> 
> I hope you all have had a good week, and that this coming one treats you just as well, and if you've not had a good week, I am so sorry, and I hope that this one treats you far better. All my love to you all, and sending light, happiness, and good vibrations to you. Until next week. Cat xxx


	8. Part 2.2: Trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all, welcome back, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you're doing well. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its world. All rights go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne. I just like playing around with her characters.

Being in Twelve seemed like such a good plan before I peeped out of the train's window to see my new home and seeing little more than dust, skeletons, and ruins everywhere. My heart breaks, and Haymitch asks "You okay?"  
  
"No," I whisper, smushing myself to the window. "It looks... Oh, it's like the inside of the prison's cremator, but worse."  
  
He gently tugs me from the window and pulls me onto his lap, allowing me to curl up and press my nose to his neck. "Tiny thing," he murmurs.

"What's up?" Katniss asks, returning from the coffee machine with Peeta, both holding a mug in each hand. "Effie?"  
  
"Don't look outside," I whimper. "Don't... It's sad."

Haymitch pets me and says "She's seen the state of it, and it's upsetting her."

"How are we getting her back to the Village, then?" Katniss asks. "If she's upset seeing it from the window, she'll be even worse when we have to walk through it."  
  
Haymitch shrugs and says "I'll carry her. She likes to be carried about."  
  
Well, I don't, but I trust him not to drop me, and he never tries to hurt me. While Haymitch carries me through the ruins of Twelve, he trips. He steadies himself, cursing so disgustingly that I actually have to cover my ears, and I ask "What happened?"

"Someone's skull," he mutters grimly, and I regret asking. He gets me home, and I do my best to ignore the sound of crunching under his feet. I know too well that it could be bones, or _fragments_ of bones, of someone who was murdered by the Capitol's firebombs, of someone defenceless, someone helpless, _someone innocent._ "It's okay, Princess. Panicking would never have saved them."  
  
No, clearly... This is awful. It could _so easily_ have been Haymitch, Katniss, or Peeta crunching under some complete strangers' feet. These are _people_! We reach the Village, and there's less dead people here. Nobody would have come here, why would they? All the people here were out of the District by then. Peeta was a few doors away from me, having his flesh ripped off as they destroyed his mind with venom... The sound of his screams, the cruel laughter of those horrible guards, all so loud, I can't... "What's wrong?" Peeta asks, and it's not real, it's not real, it's not real! Not safe! "Haymitch, what's happening?"  
  
"No!" I squeak, flinging myself to him to cover his mouth, and my movement must startle the guard holding me, because he doesn't even fight. "Don't! No names! You know better than that! Shh! Stay strong, don't let them take you. You're stronger than that stuff, you know you are." 

"Effie, it's okay," Peeta says, hugging me tightly. "It's okay. We're not there any more. It's not real. We're home. We're safe. Shh, it's okay."

"No, no, don't try that," I hiss. "We have to be cautious, darling, remember that. They hate us, they want to use us. Don't let them, darling. Don't let them use us against our loved ones, we're stronger than that."

"We are stronger than that," Peeta agrees. "We beat them."

I feel hands around my waist, gentler than I'm used to, but not welcomed. I turn and I smack the guard with all my strength, knocking him down. "Don't touch me again!" I snarl. "You want that boy, you go through _me_ first!"  
  
"Effie, that's _Haymitch_!" Katniss yells.  
  
"I'm good," the imposter-Haymitch groans. "Good to see she still has fight in her. Princess?"  
  
"No!" I shriek, grabbing Peeta and pushing him behind me. "You don't call me that! You don't get to use _anything_ like that! You're not him, and you never will be! You're a terrible fake!"  
  
The imposter-Haymitch shrugs and says "Maybe so, but you, beautiful girl, are going to get cold if you don't let me take you back to the house. You can bring the kids if you must."  
  
Beautiful? None of my guards say I'm beautiful... "I'm bringing these," I say, grabbing the kids.  
  
"Yeah, that's fine," the imposter-Haymitch says, then walks ahead of us. Why does he have bags? What does he even plan to do to us? I'll fight him until I'm dead for these kids, but I won't let someone else kidnap them. My kids. Once inside, I smell dust, decay, but not the stench of blood, or of poop, or urine, or of sweat. Huh. "We're home."  
  
Home? Where is home? Where are we? I can't see it. This looks like stones... "Effie, you're crushing my wrist," Peeta says gently.  
  
He's so calm... "Where are we?" I ask, letting my grip loosen.  
  
"Haymitch's home," Peeta says gently. "Twelve. We're safe, Effie. Look around you. We're safe here."  
  
Are we? I want something _real_ , someone to tether me to reality, where am I? "Princess, come here," the voice of Haymitch's imposter says, and I long for the times I was trapped in my head, that Haymitch didn't have an imposter, he married me, we had a baby, we were happy. I miss him. I barely even notice my knees giving way until I'm on the floor, covered in dust, and I can feel big, strong hands on me. "It's okay, little one. Shh, sweetheart. You're at home, you're safe. Shh, it's okay."  
  
I cry harder as this big man, the imposter-Haymitch, the one I don't know if I can trust, scoops me off the dusty floor and gathers me to his chest, kissing my head gently. "What's she doing that for?" Katniss asks, and her voice is distant and scared. "Why is she doing that?"  
  
"She's scared," Peeta says.  
  
"But why is she making that noise?" Katniss insists.  
  
"She's scared and confused," imposter-Haymitch says. "She's not like us, her terror is usually gentle, and comes out as tears, not rage."  
  
"Oh," Katniss mumbles.  
  
I hate this, I hate this, _I hate this!_ Ugh! "Where's my baby?" I ask, because if anything will prove to me that this is real, they'll say something too true to themselves for it to be imposters hurting me. "Where's my baby boy?"  
  
"You don't have a baby," imposter-Haymitch says. "You had one in your coma dream, remember? The kids were married and had two babies, you and I were married, and you had a little boy just before you woke up."  
  
Not my Haymitch! "I want my baby," I tell him firmly. "I want my son and my husband. You won't keep me from them!"  
  
"Nope, I won't," he says. "But you'll have to relax a little and accept that you're awake now, and we have to get married _here_ , in _this_ reality, then we have to make a baby before you can have him again. Okay? I'll happily marry you and let you have our baby, sweetheart, but I want you to come back to me first. Yeah? Can you do that? Can you come back to me?"  
  
"Prove that you're not bad," I murmur.  
  
"Okay," he says softly. "What do you want to know?"  
  
There's only three things I know only he knows and nobody would think to torture out of him. "Three things. One, what do I love to wear when there's only Haymitch and myself around?" I ask.  
  
"If we're not doing anything that day, your favourite black sweats with the pockets for the candy you deny having and a black hoodie that you like to pretend you're a worm in," he says, smirking a bit. "You're a very cute worm."  
  
"What's the only way to calm me down that only Haymitch is allowed to do?" I ask.  
  
"Shove your bear at you, then rub your stomach until you fall asleep," he replies, smirking at me.  
  
"When was I born?" I ask.  
  
Not public knowledge, for my sake. "June twenty eighth, just before the start of the-" he says, and I squeak, putting my hand over his mouth. "That enough?"  
  
"Mm hmm! No telling the kids how old I am!" I squeak. "They don't have to know that I'm an elderly worm."  
  
He laughs and says "Princess, you're just under half my age, you're not an elderly worm, you're barely even an adult worm. You're closer to baby worm than you are elderly worm."  
  
"Oh, gross, seriously?!" Katniss demands. "You say our love life's bad, you've robbed the goddamn cradle! She's in her mid-twenties!"  
  
"I'm mature for my age," I scoff. "And _legal_ , I might add, which I have been since we got together. I don't need protecting. I need snuggling with this big, warm thing."

Haymitch laughs and kisses my head. "Aw, Princess. Let's get you settled in, huh? We'll even find you something to eat. How does that sound?" he asks, giving me a big snuggle.  
  
"Sounds good. Naps would be nice," I agree, then cup his cheek. "You need to shave, darling, that beard looks like it's not being taken care of."  
  
"Well, now I have you to make me shave," he says. "I'll shave it once I've cleared up in here a bit, given you a proper place to take your naps in."  
  
"Yay," I murmur. "Then I'll give you all the kisses we've had to miss out on."  
  
He grins, and I realise with a pang in my stomach how much I've missed that cheeky grin of his. I love it. The kids don't seem very inclined to hang about now that they know that Haymitch is safe from being punched again, and Peeta asks "Do you two need anything before we go get ourselves settled in again?"  
  
"Nah, we're good," Haymitch says. "I reckon on the sheets not being that dusty in that airing cupboard upstairs."  
  
They leave us be, and I follow Haymitch up to the bedrooms. The wallpaper is peeling a bit, but it's okay. We can fix it. I just want him to have a normal life now. I know it's a fantasy, that he won't ever have _normality_ , he's living with a certified madwoman, we both have post-traumatic stress, and he's going to be forever waiting for the other shoe to drop. We'll never have a normal life, or a normal marriage, or babies. We're not stable enough to be parents, not really. Our babies will be as fluffed as we are if we ever do have them. I help him strip the bed, and remake it, despite my body beginning to ache halfway through the remaking. I stand straight for a minute, stretching my back, and Haymitch moves like lightning as the world goes weirdly dark on me for a moment, something I can only say feels like being squashed by a ghost wall that makes your tongue go numb and your eyes not work. When I get my feelings back and my hearing is going from fully fuzzed to cotton woolly, I can feel his arm around me and his hand on my tummy, and I mumble "I'm okay, my tongue just feels too big for my head."  
  
He laughs, then kisses my head and says "You're nutritionally deficient, sweetheart. The doctors gave me pills for you, and a dietician gave me a list to help you get your body back to normal. That's why you're going all dizzy when you stretch."  
  
"Oh," I murmur, then snuggle him. "I need to lie down. I don't feel very well."  
  
He holds me up while he clumsily rearranges the bed so that it's ready for me to lie in. He makes me sit down, then he takes my shoes and coat off me, and lies me down on the pillows. "You lie there, beautiful girl. I'll get some dusting done, clean out the refrigerator, oven, and washing machine, then if you're still napping, I'll do some shopping, maybe make you a meal. I know the pots and pans are clean, Hazelle washed them before we had to leave for the last Games," he tells me. "You rest, beautiful. I'll see you in a few hours."  
  
He leaves me here, and I do end up taking a nap. I don't mind falling to the bliss of sleep at all, but I _do_ mind opening my eyes and finding myself in a stone cell, surrounded by my own excrement, the stench of rot, the sickly-sweet stink of death in the air, and seeing my own body becoming necrotic all around me as I gasp for air, my lungs burning, my throat scorched and parched, and every breath tearing at me like knives. I want to scream, I want to move, I can't move... "Help," I rasp, unable to... Who is that? "Help me, please... Get me out of here..."  
  
I get to the fence door, reaching for the boots of the human being stood in front of me, inches from my salvation. All they have to do is open the door... They kneel, and all I see is the unforgiving helmet of a Peacemaker. "What do you want?" he asks, the voice decidedly masculine.  
  
"Help... Water..." I rasp.  
  
"No water for you," he chuckles cruelly. "District cum rags don't get water. Should have thought about it before you spread your legs for Abernathy."  
  
He stands up, stomps hard on my arm, and kicks my face through the metal bars, dropping me back into the piles of yucky around me. I cry silently without any tears, unable to even produce a droplet of moisture now. I am to die here... "Effie! Effie, beautiful, wake up! Oh, for Panem's sake, woman, open your eyes!" Haymitch bellows, and I wake up to being very violently shaken. It doesn't take me long to realise that I'm crying, and I cling to him. "Hey, beautiful... What was it?"  
  
"I'm sorry," I sob. "I'm so sorry. Please help. I want to be good. I want to be normal."  
  
"You were never normal, sweetheart," Haymitch says. "That's what makes you so fun to be around. You're not normal. Now tell me what was happening inside your little head."  
  
I whisper "He said I'm... He said... He said I'm a District cum rag."  
  
Haymitch stiffens around me. "Who did?" he asks quietly, that dangerous quiet that makes me nervous. "Who said you're a District cum rag?"  
  
"The guard," I whisper.  
  
"I knew he deserved more than just a slit throat," Haymitch growls. "He couldn't have been further from the truth. You're so much more than just some cum rag. You're a wedding away from being my wife, sweetheart. You're not a cum rag, you never were. That was a lie."  
  
I snuggle up to him. "He kicked my face and said I didn't deserve water because I spread my legs for you," I whisper.  
  
"He shouldn't have," my love says. "You deserve everything good in this world, little one, regardless of who you spread your legs for. You're my Princess, always were, always will be."  
  
"May I bother you and ask for a drink?" I ask softly, clinging to him.  
  


"Okay," he whispers, kissing my head. "Anything for my Princess."  
  
He picks me up and carries me downstairs. This man will have a sore back if he keeps carrying me around. He plops me on a seat at the kitchen table, and shows me the different teas and coffees he's brought from the city with him. "I'd like a coffee, please," I whisper, because it always manages to make me feel warm and happy. Coffee reminds me of late nights spent working with him, curled up against his side, just being busy and surrounded by blankets. He makes us both coffee, then gives me a brand new mug. It's pink with my name in black, written with a fancy font. It's very pretty, and I truly appreciate it. I smile up at him and whisper "Thank you, darling."  
  
He looks uncomfortable, and I reach for his hand. I trust this man not to hurt me, I know he won't. He's a good man. He gently touches my hand and smiles a bit. A small smile, but it's genuine, and it makes this little thing happy. I smile back, and he squeezes my hand, then asks "What do you want to eat? The girl's been hunting since you slept, she's brought back wild turkeys, a dog, and two rabbits. I think it's too cold for fish. The boy also gave us some bread."  
  
"I'll eat anything," I whisper. All I want is a cuddle. Is that bad? "Whatever you like."  
  
He looks at me oddly and asks "What's wrong? If you want something else, Princess, I'll find you something else. I'm sure there's a hamper somewhere that we were sent home with. Do you want me to get it?"  
  
"No," I murmur, then brace myself. Rejection always hurts, so I need to be tough if he doesn't want to. "May I get a cuddle with you?"  
  
He looks unhappy about something, but there's no hesitation. He wraps his strong arms around me and squashes me against his chest. "You don't ever have to ask me for this," he murmurs. "Ever. There's nobody to hide from now, there's no reason to hide whatever we are. This isn't dangerous now."  
  
I don't know who he's trying to convince of that; himself or me. But I don't think it's working for either of us. I definitely still feel as watched as ever with him, and he's spent too long drilling the fear of loving somebody into himself to dig it out and throw it away now. I inhale deeply, the strong scents of woodlands, pine specifically, slight sweat from the day's endeavours, something musky that I think may be his aftershave, and something uniquely his, all filling my nose and making my brain relax. He smells fantastic when he's not oozing liquor out of every pore, enough to make me feel all squishy inside. He never usually uses that aftershave, though. Or _any_ aftershave, really. He never usually shaves, and he says aftershave should only be used _after_ _shaving_ , with a patronising variant on the saying _clue's in the name, sweetheart._ "You smell good," I murmur. "What did you do?"  
  
"Showered," he snorts, nuzzling my neck. "Why do you think I did anything?"  
  
"I smell your aftershave," I murmur. "Normally, you don't use aftershave."  
  
"Yeah, I do. I use it when I've shaved," he says. I lift my head to rub my cheek on his, and he laughs. "I didn't _shave_ , not all of it. I trimmed it down, though. It bugs you when it gets too long, so I cut it down. And I thought you liked that aftershave."

"I do," I tell him, burying my face back into his neck. I press my lips to his skin gently, he always used to like that. I find myself mouthing _I love you_ against his skin, the only truly safe way to tell him that. "It suits you."  
  
He rubs my back gently and whispers "Thanks, Princess," then does something I've never expected of him in this reality, and I mean _never_. He mouths _I love you too_ against my neck, then presses a kiss there, the small squeeze getting slightly tighter around me. "Have you decided what you want for food?"  
  
"Anything," I whisper, nuzzling his neck, pleased by the silent confirmation of the love he's giving to me. I hope it's real. I hope this is us moving on together, as people, not just the mentor and escort, dragging through our daily responsibilities in the hope of a better day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I hope you liked that. If you have any questions, theories, or constructive criticism, I'm always open to it. I also would like to thank everyone who has commented, left kudos, and bookmarked this so far, I always get so excited when I see interaction.
> 
> I hope you all have had a good week, and that this coming one treats you just as well, and if you've not had a good week, I am so sorry, and I hope that this one treats you far better. All my love to you all, and sending light, happiness, and good vibrations to you. Until next week. Cat xxx


	9. Part 2.3: Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all, welcome back, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you're doing well.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its world. All rights go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne. I just like playing around with her characters.

Learning to live again isn't as hard as I expected it to be. We're mostly kept in meat and baked goodies by the children, and now that it's springtime, he and Peeta have turned over our wasteland of a backyard, and they've planted some of our potatoes and carrot tops in a corner that Haymitch has built a neat little fence around. He's even had strawberries imported from the Capitol, and he's planted those in little pots! He says they're for me, but I know him, he loves big, juicy strawberries as much as I do. I love him. Maybe we should get married. I don't like how these newcomers to Twelve, definitely _not_ natives, are looking at him. I mean, he's big, muscly, very handsome, and when he does smile, it lights up his whole face and makes him look younger. He's my world, and he knows it. "Effie, why are you looking out there like you've just been proposed to?" Katniss asks, and I cringe at the sound of her fresh kill being dropped on my pristine table.

I hear the back door opening, and my beloved Haymitch walks in, shirtless, sweaty, and his hands are muddy. Apparently, he likes gardening, and the rain from last night has made the soil good for gardening in the mild heat today. "Wash your hands, darling," I tell him, then peck his lips gently before turning to see the huge deer carcass on my table. "Katniss, as much as I _love_ that you bring us fresh meat, do you need to dump dead animals on my kitchen table?" I ask, not daring to go near the thing.

"Yeah, because I just lugged it across the green, and you complain about your food being put on the porch too," she says. "I'll take it out and skin it in a minute. Just let me get my bearings back, it's not easy when the deer have grown fatter this year."

I don't want to think about what those deer have been eating. I never do. Ew. "Don't say that around her," Haymitch scoffs. "She's good at thinking up the worst about why they've got fat."

He opens the faucet and starts scrubbing his hands. Katniss flops onto a chair, and I decide that everyone needs a drink. "Who'd like a drink?" I offer.

"Do you have iced tea?" Katniss asks.

"Had some brought from the city, Princess loves the stuff," he says. "It's lemon flavour, though, she's had a bit of a thing for sour stuff lately."

"She must have," Katniss snorts. "She's been watching you like a teenager watches her crush in the school canteen. Are you two planning to tie the knot any time soon?"

My heart leaps. Haymitch says "We will, someday, but not in the next three months. I haven't even asked her if she wants to yet."

"You don't really _have_ to," I tell him. "You could grab me and carry me to the Justice Building to marry me, and I'd go with it."

He laughs, and I start filling two glasses with ice cubes. I'm not really hot enough for iced tea yet. That's the thing with this District, I'll either boil like a cabbage or freeze like ice. There really is no in-between here. It's furnace, or it's freezer. I fill the glasses with tea, then place one next to him and one next to Katniss. "Why aren't you having tea, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks.

"I'm not warm enough," I tell him. "I'm having a hot drink, I need warmth."

He wraps me in his arms and kisses my head. "My poor little ice queen," he mutters, rubbing my tummy. "All small and shivery. I need to get you some real winter clothing, these flimsy dresses don't do anything to keep your smallness warm."

"There's no point getting her winter clothes, it's nearly summer," Katniss scoffs. "She'll just end up naked on the sofa."

"Won't hear me complaining," Haymitch chuckles. "She's gorgeous. And she has stuff suited to summer, she'll be fine. It's now that she can't handle."

I look up at him and rub the back of my head on his chest. "You're warm," I tell him. "You do a very good job of snuggling the warm into me."

He laughs, a quiet rumble of a sound, but it's real, and it makes my heart happy. I love it when he laughs like that. "Sit down, pretty girl," he murmurs. "I'll find you something to snuggle in while I make your drink."

He gets his winter jacket with the thick fleece lining from the hanger near the back door, and he wraps me in that, plants a kiss on my head, and goes to make my tea. I relax once the warmth takes over, and then I notice the dead deer that's still on my table staring at me with that empty, dead eye. "Katniss, darling, have you got your bearings back?" I ask of her, doing my best to avoid the single eye still staring at me.

"Yeah, why?" she asks.

"Because this dead animal is starting to make me feel very uncomfortable, and I don't like being watched with the soulless eyes of the dead," I tell her. I refrain from adding the fact that I've been watched by the eyes of the dead before for far too long. The image of Portia's body, her eyes blank and unseeing, placed next to me in my cell, then left there to rot with me invades my mind, and I really, really push at the image, I don't need it, but it's there now, and the memory of the smell starts to come back, filling my head. I swear I bring this down on myself, thinking of that whenever someone shows me a dead animal, and around here, with Katniss, that's a common sight. Oh, no, no, no, no! I can smell the death, the rot, and it's invasive. The warm hand on my back is unexpected, and I really don't mean to jump away, but I do, and naturally, because I am a glutton for punishment, I land on the chair next to me, ribcage first, and the pain bursts from there. It takes all I have left to hold back from bursting into tears, and I whimper "Help?"

I feel the strong and very gentle grip of Haymitch's warm hands as he lifts me up. "Where does it hurt, little one?" he asks softly, plopping me back onto my chair. "What did you bash?"

I'm so close to tears that I can't even open my mouth. I lift my good arm up and point to my battered side, biting the inside of my lip and squeezing my eyes shut to avoid crying. It's such a stupid thing for me to cry over, it's not the worst pain I've ever had, but it hurts so much... I can't cry, Katniss will mock me, and Haymitch might tease me about it. "Should I get some ice?" Katniss asks.

"Yeah, go on," Haymitch says, then lifts my blouse up. I instinctively push it back down, but he kisses my nose and says "I need to lift your shirt to see the damage, sweetheart. I'm not going to hurt you. I won't even touch you if you don't want me to. I just have to see if there are any breaks before it swells. Okay?"

I nod and lift my arm away from my side, but the pain is overwhelming, and I feel sick and dizzy from it. He holds my arm for me, and he lifts my blouse, then I hear him sigh. "Is anything broken?" Katniss asks.

"No," Haymitch says. "Not as far as I can see, no. Breathe as deeply as you can, Princess."

I do as he tells me, and I feel very faint as pain stabs through me. "Well?" Katniss asks.

"Nope, no breaks," he tells her, then puts my blouse back. "Just grazes and bruising. Nothing dangerous."

"Okay. Take her to the living room, get her lay down, that'll keep the ice on the bruising until she can breathe properly again," Katniss says, and Haymitch picks me up like I weigh nothing. To him, I probably don't. He carries me in the bridal position, and it's perfect for me, because I get to look up at his face, and that's never a bad thing. I love looking at this gorgeous man, but his eyes always captivate me. They're never just _one_ shade of grey, they're always changing, from a stormy grey when he's angry to a shimmering silver when he feels a lot of love, charcoal grey when he's full of lust to almost black when he's dangerously enraged, and so much more besides. This man holds so much emotion, and he only ever truly expresses any of it through those incredible eyes. His face hardly ever shows emotion, aside from when he's comfortable with whoever he's showing his emotions to. His face is usually set in stoicism, not even so much as a little knit of his thick, dark eyebrows most of the time. I constantly find myself watching him, but it's solely because of how much I love looking at him. "Effie, come back from Planet Goo for a minute, will you? I need you to let me put this ice on your ribs."

Katniss is very impatient, can't she see that I'm busy admiring the man I love? Priorities! I make a face, then try to lift my arm. Oh! Ouch! Yes, now I remember why she wants to put ice there! Ooh! My eyes prickle with tears, and I whimper as quietly as I can. That hurts. Oo, okay, cold! Cold! Cold! "That's _cold_!" I wail, all tears forgotten for the moment.

"Really?" Katniss asks, in her _don't be stupid_ tone. "That's ice for you, I suppose. It's supposed to be cold."

"Ah, don't be mean, she's halfway between us and Planet Goo," Haymitch chuckles. "It's not her fault if she's not fully with us and doesn't understand ice."

"I don't understand you two," I mutter, a bit stung by their mean comments. "I'm familiar with ice, you know. I just wasn't expecting it to be dropped on my ribs. It's rather shocking to just have your ribs frozen. And I was _not_ on Planet Goo, I was just admiring the genetic beauty of the human I'm committing my life to, that's all. You're as attractive outside as you are inside. That doesn't put me on Planet Goo."

Haymitch pets me, and Katniss rolls her eyes at me. "Sure. Anyway, I'll go move that doe now. Try not to go all weird again," she says, then looks at Haymitch. "Can you handle her?"

"She's not exactly dangerous," Haymitch scoffs. "I've fought teddy bears more dangerous than her. She's easy to deal with. You go fight that dead doe off our table, I've got the small thing."

"You must have fought some pretty dangerous teddy bears," I tell him. "I can fight."

"You can't fight your way out of a wet paper bag," he scoffs, kissing my head.

"Why's my paper bag wet?" I ask. "I wouldn't need to get out of it if it was dry, would I? I'd rip it if it was wet."

"You're too small to rip a wet paper bag," he chuckles. "You're my travel-size Princess. You curl up and fit in my pocket."

"I am _not_ that small," I huff. "I'd fit in your backpack."

He stares at me for half a second, then bursts out laughing, a true, deep, booming laugh that makes me smile. I love this laugh of his too, it's so _real_ , so honest, full of true amusement, so unrestrained, so _him_ , it fills my heart and soul to have coaxed that out of him. He laughs for a solid ten minutes, then Katniss pokes her head in and asks "Did you break him?"

Haymitch's laughter slows to wheezing, and I wipe the tears of laughter from his cheeks, adoring that laughter from him. He chokes "She's admitted to her size. She's not a little pocket Princess... She's my backpack Bug."

And just like that, he's laughing again, and I have to giggle along with him, because that wonderful laugh is infectious. I love his sense of humour. I want to spend the rest of my life finding ways to make this man laugh like this. Katniss just rolls her eyes once more and mutters "Head doctor. Definitely head doctor."

Oh, that girl. She's more than a bit grumpy, but it's why we love her. She doesn't emote much now, since sweet little Primrose was killed, but I think that if we all love her enough, maybe pet her occasionally, and give her enough reason to be happy, she might heal from that. Haymitch has healed over his lost loved ones, and that was through time and being loved, as well as some therapy. Maybe that'll be what makes Katniss laugh again. I just want them all to be happy. Haymitch finally stops laughing, and I reach for him with my good arm, he's here, and I need to squeeze him, I need somewhere to put all this love, my body's going to explode if I can't squeeze someone. He lets me give him a big squeeze, and I kiss his head for once. "Mine," I murmur. "Mine for the squishing."

"Yours," he mutters, hugging me gently. "And you're mine."

"All yours," I murmur.

"You're feeling all full of love, aren't you?" he asks, kissing the hollow of my throat.

"Uh huh. And you're the best place to put all that love," I tell him, enjoying sniffing his hair. I want everything about him around me at all times from now until I stop existing. I'm keeping him. "Forever?"

"Huh?" he asks, and I nuzzle his neck gently. "What do you mean?"

"Us. You, me, forever?" I ask softly.

He softens slightly and squeezes me gently. "As long as forever will be to us, sweetheart," he murmurs. "I won't intentionally lose you, sweetheart. You're mine for as long as you want to be."

"Yes, forever," I murmur. "I always want to be yours."

He tightens his hold on me, pressing his face to my upper chest, and I feel a rush of love flood my veins. This is what I've been craving for the majority of my life. Love. He is my world, and he always will be. This is what I need, and this is what'll keep my family together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I hope you enjoyed that. If you have any questions, theories, or constructive criticism, I'm always open to it. Also, thanks to everyone who has read, commented, left kudos, and bookmarked this so far, I always get so excited when I see interaction.
> 
> I hope you all have had a good week, and that this coming one treats you just as well, and if you've not had a good week, I am so sorry, and I hope that this one treats you far better. All my love to you all, and sending light, happiness, and good vibrations to you. Until next week. Cat xxx

**Author's Note:**

> How was it? I'd really appreciate your feedback on this one, I'm not convinced about it yet, so I'd like to hear your opinions. Any constructive criticism is _deeply_ appreciated, as are ideas, prompts, theories, and questions. I do love interacting with you. 
> 
> Happy start of December, loves, and I hope you enjoy it. All my love and good vibes for you all. Cat xxx


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